each ancient mango tree marks an old grave
i listen as my father tells the tale
so each sweet fruit is memory of a slave
a rapid flight is all that they could crave
back to the east faster than any sail
each ancient mango tree marks an old grave
in those hard times folk knew how to behave
and on which side of truth to set the scale
so each sweet fruit is memory of a slave
we can’t know if they cursed and then forgave
that’s not recorded on the bill of sale
each ancient mango tree marks an old grave
so many symbols here that we could save
to make into our kind of holy grail
so each sweet fruit is memory of a slave
those lives were ordinary nothing brave
about survival only not to fail
each ancient mango tree marks an old grave
so each sweet fruit is memory of a slave
